


Clawing at the Door

by Sarge51



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Doesn't Understand Tags, F/M, Gen, No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarge51/pseuds/Sarge51
Summary: The Fourth War is winding down and the Alliance is on the losing side. Anduin sees his people as cornered and struggles with what he should do. Will the light have an answer or will he fail his people?





	Clawing at the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Edited the chapter slightly to flow better

You could almost forget that death was clawing at the door when you stood on the battlements of Stromgarde. The air was clear and the sun shone down upon the rolling hills of Arathi. From the walls you could make out farmers and workers tending crowded fields that struggled to grow food for the refugees that filled the walls of the city and it's one village. 

"You're going again, aren't you?" said a solemn feminine voice. It lilted gently and eased its own interruption of the almost serene view. An elven woman separated herself from the shadows that the walls crenelations cast due to the morning sun. Her leather armor was dyed red as blood and the tan skin of her legs shone warmly in the light. Her platinum blonde hair was tucked under a leather hood. Glowing green eyes stared at the lone man who stood upon the battlements.

"Of course. It is my duty." replied the male in a tired baritone. 

He wore a simple white linen shirt, brown linen pants and a pair of brown leather boots. Overtop this he wore a large brown Gilnean great coat that had silver accents and trim. The man was tall and broad, yet the coat seemed to hang from him as though it was meant for a broader frame. His hair, as yellow as harvest grain, was pulled back in a short tail with strands framing his face. A week's worth of growth had collected on his face. This resulted in him having a ragged and somewhat disheveled appearance. His blue-eyed gaze didn't wander from the horizon and the rising sun.

The blood elf moved slowly towards the man and took up a position alongside him. Her gaze drifted to the crossroads that lay beyond the main gates of the city. A small village had been built on the crossroads not long after they had cleared out the city. It had short stone walls surrounding it's perimeter and small gatehouses on each road out. A few defensive turrets had been built alongside the roads to the north and south. It was a recent construction effort that was started in preparation for a seige that may or may not ever arrive. The design was without clear direction, a mixture of human, dwarven and gnomish masonry efforts. Several dwarven rifleman and human archers manned the walls of the small town.

"You don't have to go. The King isn't expected to be on the frontlines." she spoke softly. Her voice was filled with concern for the man beside her. The man looked to the road below them and watched as peasants and soldiers travelled into and out of the city. The road had been recobbled to handle the regular traffic and a bridge had been built to replace the natural one that had once crossed the two lakes that lay outside the city walls.

"Perhaps, but it is the least that I can do. How can I ask so much of them and be content hiding away? They deserve more." he replied. His eyes followed a group of workers that were bringing wood into the city. They looked haggard and worn, but they were persevering. He placed his arms behind him in a parade rest, his hands clasped.

"I've been leading them for ten years now. Ten long years of fighting only to be denied victory at every turn." spoke the man sorrowfully. As the words left his mouth his lips turned downwards, his brow creasing and his voice raising just so. He turned and locked eyes with her. His blue eyes held fury in them, fury she had seen in his father before him.

"The ruins of Lordearon, Gilneas, and Alterac were taken first. Then the Argent Dawn were slaughtered in the Plaguelands." He stepped closer to her and stared down at her. She could feel the fury radiating off of him, but she held her ground. He needed to say his words, so she would let him.

"Hillsbrad was lost without much fight, but I was assured by my council that all of these losses we were sustaining meant little. I was told not to worry about a few ruins and a dying land." his eyes grew darker as his voice lowered. He stepped closer still.

"Then we lost Duskwood with the fall of Darkshire. We were turned back at Sentinel Hill, ceding Westfall. Lakeshire held for a few more months, but they eventually overran redridge and prepared to lay siege to eastvale. Then we lost Stormwind...and Elwyn along with it."

The elven woman placed a hand upon his shoulder in an act of comfort. She shared with him a saddened smile. It was obvious to her that he carried the blame upon himself. She watched as his eyes expressed every negative emotion from anger to grief and back again.

"No one could have known, Anduin. You did your best. The people know that." she spoke soft words that were an attempt to reassure him. 

"Yet still I feel hollow. If Genn were here..." he whispered. He was unable to finish the sentence. The words lingered in the air between them.

"He would smack you on the head for being so daft if he was here. He would tell you that you are a better King than any he ever knew, himself included." she spoke softly with a hint of mirth ringing in her voice. This made Anduin smile, even if it was tinged with sadness and regret. 

"Perhaps you are correct, but that does not change how I feel Valeera." he said solemnly. The fury in his eyes dimmed as she squeezed his shoulder.

"You're a great King. Your people love you with all their hearts and trust that you have their best interests in mind. You lead your soldiers from the frontlines, not a command tent. You, Anduin, are the King they need and the only one they would wish to have. Be it a citizen of Gilneas, Stormwind or Lordearon, they see you as their King." her other hand came up to grasp his other shoulder and she locked eyes with him. Her burning green gaze met piercing blue and she hoped that her sincerity came across.

"And every day I try to be the King that our people deserve. That's why I'll be leaving with the shift change. Our soldiers that are defending Thoradin's Wall need their King. They need to know that their King is with them." said Anduin with passion stirring within his tired voice. Valeera wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a gentle embrace. He wrapped his arms lightly around her in response and brought her closer.

"You've come so far from the little boy I once knew…" she whispered. He chuckled in response to it, his voice filling his chest and lifting some of his sadness.

"I would be nowhere without my friends, Valeera, present company included." he said. They stayed like this for a few more moments before she broke away. She ran an arm down the leather sleeve of the coat he wore. It was old and very worn, but still very stout and strong. Gilnean craftsmanship tended to last. She felt worry rise when the breeze blew his shirt and showed hints of how thin he was becoming.

"He would say something about how you aren't filling out that old coat of his. Kings have to eat." she said. He grabbed her hand and smiled sadly.

"I eat no less than anyone else Valeera. I will not take more than my share. He would do the same." he replied. Several things went unspoken between them, but the messages were clear. A horn sounded in the distance, signalling an assault had begun on the wall.

Anduin looked in towards the crowded city of Stromgarde. It had came a long way since they had cleared it out. What once had been ruins and burned down houses had became towering buildings. Multistory Shantytowns crowded between large boarding houses. The old stone streets were filled with people that milled about with goods and grain. Smoke rose to the sky as Smith's hammered and worked forges, bakers baked and kitchens cooked. He felt pride swell in his chest as he watched them work and continue to survive. 

"I must go. I'm not so ready to die as to forget to dawn my armor. Be safe Valeera. May you walk with the light." said Anduin. They locked eyes once more, she smiled.

"I shall. May the light follow you, my King." replied Valeera.

….

Boom!

The sound of boulders slamming upon the great stone that made Thoradin's Wall thundered through the region. Gravel and debris rained down upon the heads of the defenders. They ducked behind crenelations and bulwarks as arrows rained down at them from the woodlands and fields that lay beyond the wall. 

The wall had been repaired and fortified in the early years of the Fourth Great War. As the lands that lay North of the wall were lost, more and more workers were sent to Thoradin's Wall. Stone had been salvaged from horde encampments and ruins from the surrounding area to mend the ancient structure.

What once had been the ruined remains of a time long past now stood proud and defiant in the face of the Forsaken onslaught that currently lay seige to it. The high walls were reinforced with iron bands and fresh stone. New towers had been built in place of the shattered ones before. The gatehouse stood taller, with platforms for ballista and a barracks above the four layer gates. Deep trenches had been dug before the wall, filled with pikes, spears and spikes. The only way to reach the walls was via the main road. Archers, Rifleman, mortars, gnomish steam cannons, mages and warlocks all manned the walls and worked tirelessly to repel the undead onslaught. 

Boom!

Another volley from the enemy catapults battered the ancient Wall. The ballista soon offered flaming counter battery in reply. The archers worked in perfect synchronicity with the riflemen to suppress the Forsaken sappers that worked to batter the gates. Mages froze abominations in place for the Warlocks to shatter with fel-flame. Gnomish bombers worked to thin out the legions of foot soldier's. Wildhammer gryphons dogfighting with dark rangers on bats could be seen often. 

Alane, a young female human priest, was struggling as she tended to the wounded upon the southern battlements. Blood stained her once white linen robes from those she couldn't save. The boy she was tending to had been hit by a barbed crossbow bolt. The wound was oozing dark red blood and she worried at his shallow breathing.

Priests were few and good medics were hard to find as well, so here she was. She prayed to the light as blood ran from the dying young Archer beneath her palms and onto the brickwork below them. The screams of wounded filled her ears and she spoke soft words in prayer. Golden light flowed into the wound and she smiled as she watched the wound stitch itself back together. The boys breathing settled and he relaxed under her hands. He was lucky that the barbed crossbow bolt had missed anything major.

"You will be alright young one, rest now."

She rose and went to move onto the next soldier when she froze. Her heart dropped to her stomach and ice filled her nerves as she watched several dark rangers land before her. The undead elf at the lead smirked as she drew her bowstring taught with three arrows notched.

"For the Dark Lady!" shouted the Elf. She let the arrow fly and the priest closed her eyes. She didn't have enough Mana to cast a shield. This was it, wasn't it?

The sound of one of the arrows burying itself into flesh filled her ears, but she didn't feel any pain. Was she in shock? She opened her eyes and saw no wound as she glanced down upon herself. What sorcery was this? She looked up and gasped at what stood before her.

"Hold fast soldiers! We shall hold back the Invaders!" shouted a strong voice filled with warmth and strength.

His leather great coat blew lightly in the breeze. The golden lions helm shone brightly in the midday sun. His battered plate armor shone under the Gilnean duster and one could make out a flintlock pistol holstered on a large leather belt at his waist. Shalamayne was held at the ready and a shield was strapped to his left arm. The sigil of Lordearon shone brightly on its face despite two black arrows embedded within it. The third arrow shaft sprouted from his shoulder, just inside the coat's lapel. A Grand Marshal stood tall and raised her voice.

"Our King is with us! Fight on Soldiers of the Grand Alliance!" her voice carried over the wall and other shouts echoed her message down the battlements. The King rushed forward to take the ranger head on. He swung his blade and slashed through the enchanted bow of the Dark Ranger. Soldiers flooded the battlements to reinforce the battered defenders. The roar of battle increased ten fold as attackers were beaten back off of the walls. 

The King took on the three rangers and pushed them back to the edge of the wall. He slashed with the enchanted Shalamayne and cast holy bolts to force the undead elves to give ground. One ranger lept forth with her twin daggers drawn and attempted to catch the King off guard. He parried her blows with his blade expertly and with ease. He slipped into her guard and buried the sword to the hilt in the elf's chest. The blade burned the skin around the wound to blackened char. Shock showed on her face as black blood was coughed up and splattered on the Kings helm. 

He let the blade fall with the body and drew his pistol. He aimed it at the opposite Dark Ranger and pulled the trigger. The pistol discharged and a lead ball flew fast towards the rightmost Dark Ranger that still wielded a bow. The ball pierced the Elven skull easily and blood showered the defenders behind her. He pulled his sword out of the first Ranger with his shield hand and grabbed the weaponless elf before him by the shoulder, sinking the blade into her chest with a lions roar, watching as her red eyes dimmed.

She gasped for air as she stared into his rage filled gaze. Hadn't the Dark Lady called him the Little Lion? Was he not supposed to cower in fear from within his stolen keep? Why was he here on the battlements with his soldiers?

"You are not...what...she prepared us...for." choked out the fading undead. She watched the eyes behind the helm narrow.

"I have not been what she thinks for a very long time." replied the King. She choked out blood and watched as the fluid of her first life ran down the Kings helm and chest plate. Black flowed sluggishly down the grooves of the Lions mane that was once wrought in fine gold. She now saw the various nicks, dings and tarnish that his armor now bore from a decade of war. She watched over his shoulder as soldiers of several crushed nation's worked together to repel the Forsaken assault. Stormwind, Gilneas, Lordearon, Scarlet Crusade, Argent Dawn...she saw them all working together. Her eyes drifted back to his blue eyes. 

"Death...hurts…" she whispered with half lidded eyes. The blade burned as she felt it shift in her chest. When was the last time she had felt pain or heat? He kneeled and laid her down on the ground. His furious gaze had softened. Despite everything that he had been through, his heart had not yet became hardened.

"Your service is finished Dark Ranger...may the light guide you." he spoke softly. The Ranger closed her eyes and felt her life fade. Would the light even welcome her after all of her misdeeds? She hoped so…

Alane rushed forward to her King as he closed the eyes of the Dark Ranger. The sounds of battle faded as the assault was repelled. The King sighed heavily as stood up, removing his blade from the chest of the elf while he did so. He turned to her and walked up to her.

"Priest, are you well?" asked her King. The young priest blushed as she locked eyes with him. He placed a hand upon her shoulder and squeezed. She nodded and offered him a slight smile.

"Thanks to you, my liege." She replied. Her eyes drifted to the arrow that he had taken for her. She gasped as she saw the blood trailing from the arrow shaft. 

"My King, your shoulder!" She exclaimed with worry. Looking down at the wound he hummed in realization. He removed his hand from her shoulder and grasped the arrow shaft firmly. He gave it a swift tug and pulled it free. Blood flowed out of the wound as he dropped the arrow to the ground. 

"Just a flesh wound, nothing to worry over!" reassured the King. He brought his hand over the wound and muttered a prayer to the light. Glowing gold light flooded the wound and warmed the air around him. The light flooded the wound and stitched it back together. He dropped his hand at his side and sheathed his blade.

"Good as new! See?" he said cheerfully. Alane looked on in awe at the ease with which he wielded the light. He began reloading his pistol as soldiers kept busy around them. As they came to collect the bodies of the rangers he waved them away from the final one that he slain.

"I shall carry this one." he said to them. His time brokered no argument. He lifted the Dark Ranger within his arms. He adjusted the body of the elf in his arms, one under her back and the other under her legs. Despite the fact that no life resided within the body, he did his best to be gentle. He turned to Alane.

"Priest? Do you know the Ceremony of Burial?" he asked her. She nodded in affirmation. A soldier walking by made a sound of disgust as he stared at the bodies of the Forsaken soldiers.

"I don't see why we bury them. They would just raise us to serve as slaves. We should just burn them!" declared the Scarlet Crusader. Alane watched as the shoulders of the King stiffened. Murmurs of agreement came from the soldiers that were running about to clear the dead. 

"Yeah! We should just burn the walking corpses!" Shouted a Gilnean soldier. Cheers rose up from the ranks. The people started shouting and screaming to burn the enemy's corpses. Alane looked on in worry when her King lashed out.

"Enough!" he shouted. His voice boomed in fury and echoed across the battlements. 

"We will not stoop so low as to deny our enemy a proper burial! We are the Alliance! We are honor and justice!" He shouted and directed his fury to the soldiers before him. He swept his gaze across the crowd before him. The crowd quickly grew silent.

"These soldiers died in battle with us and they will be buried as the light dictates! Do I make myself clear?!" He hollered. The men and women cowered before him and knelt in fealty. The Crusader that had spoken up before nodded hastily.

"Of course King Anduin. Your will be done!" he said in submission. The King walked up to the Scarlet Crusader and stared him down.

"We will not give up our humanity or our dignity in the face of adversity Crusader. Do you understand?" Asked King Anduin with a tone that gave no ground and meant that only one answer was acceptable.

"Yes my liege. Forgive my lapse of judgement. I should watch my words." spoke the cowering crusader with haste.

"No, you should always speak your truth Crusader Yorrik." said the King. The crusader looked up in shock that the King remembered him.

"I would rather you spoke to me directly. We bury the dead, regardless. That is the way of civility. Understood?" asked the King.

"Understood My Liege." replied Yorrik, head bowed. The King nodded and walked away with the body. Alane followed.  
…

The Sun was falling to the sea by the time that the bodies had all been buried. Alane had performed the Ceremony of Burial as asked by her King. He had knelt before the small wooden crosses and the freshly packed soil. He had been praying to the light to guide the souls of the dead. He had been there for an hour now, his lions helm removed and laying beside him with his shield. She couldn't help but notice how he seemed to remind her of a lone monolith. He stood tall in a sea of storms, battered on all fronts. The world was trying to tear him down and he refused to yield. She was proud to call him King.

He rose from his place before the graves and tucked his helm beneath his arm. The grass made soft sounds from his feet rustling it as he picked up his shield. He made his way to her and smiled down at her with warmth in his eyes. 

"You have my thanks priestess for all of your work. You may take the night off to rest." He said. She nodded.

"Rest sounds good, my King. Mayhaps you should rest as well?" She asked. He chuckled and donned his helm. 

"A King can rest when his work is done. Good evening priestess. May you walk in the light." said Anduin in farewell. Alane watched as her King walked away. The fading light made his armor gleam in the he low-light. A smile formed on her face as she waved goodbye.

"May the light walk with you, King Anduin!" shouted Alane. She watched as he walked over the hill back towards Stromgarde. She hoped that he understood how loved and respected he was. The weight he bore was a heavy one.

…

“How long do we have?” asked Anduin from his seat at the table. A map of the Eastern Kingdoms was pinned to it. Troop movements were laid out for the rooms occupants to see.

The room was dimly lit by torches that lined the stone walls. Valeera stood off to the left of the table, a dwarven ranger to the right and Mathias Shaw stood across from Anduin.

Mathias was leaning on a crutch in plain clothes. His armor had been removed when the medics had tended to him. He had arrived earlier that day with a caravan of goods that had been sent from ironforge. Apparently, they had been ambushed by a large invasion force in the wetlands. They’d been forced to close the gates to Loch Modan as well as blow the last bridge over the Thandol Span. The noose was closing in on them with every day that passes by.

“Judging by the amount of troops I was able to spot and the fact that they have also doubled their efforts at Thoradin’s Wall? They’ll be here in a week at the latest...the morning at the earliest.” said Shaw. 

Anduin felt his heart sink. The dwarf sighed heavily as he pulled a letter out of his satchel.

“Moira sends her regards, High King. I’d let you read it first, but it ain’t good Laddie. The Dwarves and Gnomes are pinned. Between collapsing the Tram and the assault from the wetlands, we can’t go north or south. The wildhammers are unable to send any aid either. They're being assaulted daily by Forsaken air patrols and artillery." said the dwarf as he handed Anduin a scroll. 

Anduin broke the seal and frowned as he perused the letter. The dwarf hadn’t been wrong. The Dwarven armies were being held in the Loch and the Badlands. They were trapped. They wouldn't starve at least. The same couldn't be said for Stromgarde. Anduin laid the letter down upon the table. Dread crept into the corners of his heart.

“Valeera, any word from Kul Tiras?” he asked. Valeera nodded. 

“Luckily, yes. They’ve agreed to have ships waiting in Faldir’s Cove. While the Forsaken are busy fighting our ships in the Bay, we can sneak people out via the tunnels to the Cove.” she said. This eased the tension in Anduin somewhat. He sat down in his chair and covered his eyes with his Gauntlet.

“Soon...soon we will have our final bout.” declared Anduin. Sylvanas wasn’t stuipid. She’d be coming for him soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave your comments and tell me what you think, all criticism is welcome.


End file.
